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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22791682">We're Not In Peril</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhGoshOhJeez/pseuds/OhGoshOhJeez'>OhGoshOhJeez</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/peskyfeelings/pseuds/peskyfeelings'>peskyfeelings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Apocalove [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Autistic! John McNamara, Autistic! Paul Matthews, F/M, First Date, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Making Out, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Non-Monogamy, Post-Apotheosis (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals), Recovery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:46:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22791682</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhGoshOhJeez/pseuds/OhGoshOhJeez, https://archiveofourown.org/users/peskyfeelings/pseuds/peskyfeelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul and the general finally share that cup of coffee. And a lot more.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins, Paul Matthews/General McNamara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Apocalove [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>130</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So here it is- the story I'm writing with my dear friend Duck, who appreciates this musical and a good rarepair like no one else. This started as a joke and became real very quickly and we both hope you enjoy the ride!</p><p>Warnings for this chapter: the dialogue in the beginning references trauma, horror and sci-fi elements, disassociation, and gore in an abstract sense.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“The last thing I remember was singing, and the tune coming out like birdsong, and my children crying. Then I woke up in the hospital bed.”</p><p>“When… they… got me, it was like I wasn’t there anymore... I was just inside of me, somehow, watching my own body do these horrible things. Like that song, you know, ‘<em>Within or Without You</em>’? I used to love The Beatles but I can’t stand to hear it now. It’s like I was with <em> them</em>. And without myself.”</p><p>“I almost lost my daughter and I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. And I know I said that last week, but that’s all I have to say.”</p><p>“Those labcoats from the government told me that my body was completely healed. Some kind of alien magic or something, I don’t know. And I believed them until the pain started. Nothing works for it- Advil, Tylenol, fucking Percocet...”</p><p>“I thought my coffee tasted a bit weird that morning. I didn’t think anything of it. Now, well, I wish I had.”</p><p>The stories reminded Paul of why he’d stopped going to the apotheosis support group meetings. Although the other regulars seemed to find a great deal of comfort in sharing their experiences, whenever it came time for him to speak, he felt like he’d just spent the last half hour scratching at a wound. A wound that bled a deep and unnatural blue.</p><p>“Mr. Matthews, would you like to share something?”</p><p>“Uhm, yeah.” Paul cleared his throat. “I’ve been having nightmares again.”</p><p>“What kind of nightmares?” Someone spoke up from across the circle. Bill. Of course it was him- curious, concerned, came to every meeting Bill. Paul tried not to look him in the eye as he answered the question.</p><p>“Well they always start out the same way. I’m lying on the floor of the Starlight Theatre.” Paul gulped as he recalled the dream. “Then I sit up and I notice that my- my arm is-“ He swallowed as he made a gesture, an imaginary slice on his shoulder. “-Gone. And I can’t get up to find it because my legs are broken or- or paralysed or something.” He took a much needed deep breath.</p><p>“These nightmares that you’ve been having...” The moderator of the group asked gently, after Paul was silent for a few seconds. “Are they… memories?” </p><p>Paul blinked and clenched his fists, fumbling for a moment before resting them on his thighs. </p><p>“Uh- I don’t remember a lot from when I was- or, I wasn’t...” Paul tried to forget the feeling of heat against his face as he pulled the grenade pin, the sound of his bones snapping as he hit the ground. “I guess they could be.”</p><p>Everyone was silent for a moment, staring at him. </p><p>“So I'm taking pills now… for sleeping.”</p><p>“How do they end?” Someone asked.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“You told us how the dreams begin, how do they end?”</p><p>Paul glanced at Bill, nervously. <em>This was a mistake. </em></p><p>“I try to put myself back together.” </p><p>“And then?”</p><p>He took a shaky breath in through his nose and plastered on a fake smile.</p><p>“And then I wake up. And I’m back together.”</p><p>The rest of the meeting passed in a haze. Paul was filling up a paper cup with free coffee in the back of the room when he heard a familiar voice.</p><p>“Paul!” Bill said, coming up behind him. “I didn’t think you’d come- but it’s nice to see an old friend around here. How do you feel?”</p><p>“Yeah I was- I was just leaving, actually.” Paul mumbled. Bill used to be his best friend, and even before that he was more than a friend. Why did a simple conversation hurt so much now? Maybe it was that sympathetic look he always wore, all kindness and forgiveness that Paul didn’t deserve. The same look was in Bill’s eyes now as the two men stood in silence.</p><p>“I know you need your time, Paul, but I miss you.” Bill said. His voice was hesitant and vulnerable. “I wish you were around more.”</p><p>“I know, Bill, I miss you too, but I-”</p><p>Speaking even quieter than before, Bill cut him off. “Alice misses you.”</p><p>As if on cue, Paul’s phone buzzed. “Sorry, I have to take this.”</p><p>“You have to take a… text?” Bill said, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“Yes, yes, and it’s very important.” Paul said, backing up and leaving his still-warm coffee on the table. When he was in the parking lot, he pulled his phone back out of his pocket, expecting a text from Emma about picking up groceries or something.</p><p>Instead, the text on the screen was from an unfamiliar number.</p><p>
  <em> Paul. This is General John McNamara of the United States Military. PEIP thanks you for your service in saving the world. Can I buy you a coffee? </em>
</p><p>Some free coffee would be nice, Paul considered, lamenting his abandoned cup inside. He texted back quickly, figuring that a little honesty couldn’t hurt. The general owed him one, after nearly ending his life just a few weeks ago.</p><p>
  <em> That would be nice :) </em>
</p><p>A few more texts later, the plan was set. Coffee at 1700 hours (5:00 pm) at a cafe down the street from Paul’s place. Paul had thought the hardest part of his day would be the support group meeting, but he hadn’t counted on how hard it would be to put together a suitable outfit.</p><p>“Emma, have you seen my grey hoodie?” Paul asked, raking through the pile of clothes sitting atop his computer chair. Ever since Emma moved in, his house had been a bit of a mess, and he hadn’t had time to organize.</p><p>“Emma? Have you s-” Paul turned around, and saw Emma in the doorway of their shared bathroom, a toothbrush in her mouth, and draped in the exact garment he was looking for.</p><p>“Nooooope. Must’ve disappeared.” She continued brushing her teeth.</p><p>Paul sighed, but smiled to himself.</p><p>“Very cute.” He said, dryly, and Emma shrugged, heading back to the bathroom.  “I can’t find anything in this damn house, it’s like a hurricane run through here.” </p><p>“I heard that!” Emma shouted.</p><p>“I wasn’t talking about you, don’t worry!”</p><p>Paul opened his wardrobe and winced as some junk that was stuffed in toppled out. He took down two blazers, sat them on his bed, and shuffled things around on his cupboard floor, looking for a reasonably smart pair of shoes. Ones that didn’t have holes in the bottom. </p><p>He opened a cardboard box, expecting to see his work shoes, only to find various brightly coloured vibrators.</p><p>“Emma!!” Paul shouted, “Emma, c’mere!”</p><p>“<em>WHAT </em>?!” Emma yelled back, and she opened the bathroom door again.</p><p>He raised the box up and shook it slightly, the toys making a rumbling sound against the sides.</p><p>“Could you please move these somewhere else?” </p><p>She waved a dismissive hand at him, but took the box out of his hands in favor of dumping it on the bed.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I'll get to it later. Don’t act so innocent, though, I’m sure you have your fair share of hidden toys.”</p><p>“I- I do not!” He said, his cheeks feeling hot all of a sudden. She raised her eyebrows. “They’re too expensive.” He mumbled, and she laughed.</p><p>“By the way, I’m staying at a friend’s house tonight, so you don’t need to leave the door unlocked or anything.”</p><p>“Oh.” Paul paused, getting up off his knees. “Are they a… friend or… a <em> friend</em>?”</p><p>Emma tilted her head. “Does it matter which?”</p><p>“No, I just...” He stopped himself. </p><p>“She’s just a friend. I dunno, though, maybe somethin’ will happen!” She teased.</p><p>“Shut up!” Paul laughed.</p><p>“I’m just saying! She’s hot.”</p><p>“And I’m not?” He strode over to her, putting his hands on her waist. He put on his best pout.</p><p>“Aw, jealous?” She smiled up at him, putting one hand on his chest.</p><p>“Just wanna know if I have any competition.”</p><p>“So you <em> are </em> jealous.”</p><p>“Ha. Ha.” He said, sarcastically.</p><p>“Maybe I should be the jealous one,” Emma still had that teasing tone that made Paul’s knees weak. “You’re the one with a date tonight.”</p><p>“What, with the general?” Paul said. “That’s not a date. He’s probably going to… give me a medal or something, I don’t know.”</p><p>“And that’s why you want to dress up? To match your shiny new medal?”</p><p>“<em>No</em>.” Paul said defensively, but he didn’t have a better answer.</p><p>She patted him on the chest, affectionately.</p><p>“Wear your grey blazer. Makes you look cute.” She remarked, then pulled away, walking down the hall and out of sight. “And a scarf, unless you want your date to remember what he did to your neck.”</p><p>“It’s not a date!” He yelled after her. However, when it came time to choose a jacket, he found himself reaching for the grey one. It couldn’t hurt to look his best.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thanks to everyone who read the first chapter and enjoyed!!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The cafe was only a few blocks from the apartment so Paul opted to walk. The tip of his nose was just starting to get numb when he reached his destination, and he jogged up to the door. Still, his hand hesitated as he closed it around the handle. Through the glass he could hear the soft hum of music, and the rest of his body seemed to freeze in reaction. Not again. He was just forcing himself to move again when someone called out from behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul Matthews?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul swung around with a surprised chirp. The breath was caught in his throat. For a moment he barely recognized him out of uniform (why was he disappointed?), but that was definitely General McNamara. He was sitting at a table to the left of the door, seemingly unbothered by the cold weather. He was hatless, hair tied back in a ponytail, with a leather jacket unzipped over a loose shirt. His eyes were bright when they made eye contact with Paul and he looked… normal. Maybe better than normal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were two simple cups of coffee on the table, one in front of an empty seat. Paul figured that must be his, so he strode over and reached out his hand to the other man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They shared a firm handshake. Paul settled down across the table from the general, a nervous energy coming down over him. The last time he’d seen this man, the hand he’d just shaken had been around his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You learn quickly, Paul.” The general said, and reached out immediately to tap the watch on Paul’s wrist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Yes, thank you, sir.” Paul said, the compliment making him feel more relaxed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not here on duty. Call me John.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, uh- thank you, John.” Paul gripped the coffee cup in front of him. It was comfortingly warm. “You ordered for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John nodded. “Give it a sip before it’s too cold.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Moving as casually as possible, Paul lifted up the edge of the lid and gave it a cursory glance. No blue shit to be found. He put the lid back on and finally took a sip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Black coffee.” He said, approvingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The only kind there should be.” John said, which Paul didn’t agree with, but the words were so confident that he nodded back anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So… you’re alive.” Paul said, and almost laughed at how ridiculous he sounded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Indeed I am. Frankly, I’m surprised to see you here in one piece.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I… I got better.” Paul said. And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>gotten better, he was breathing and talking and living instead of being smeared over the walls of a theater, but the sentence still felt like a lie. “How are you? And your, uh, ‘peeps’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John shrugged, flicking his cigarette out into the ashtray.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t lie to you, Paul, it’s been… Stressful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul could tell. John had purple bags under his eyes, and his posture wasn’t as strong as it was when they first met. Up close, he looked tired. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coming up with an alibi for an entire town was difficult.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, I heard about that. They said it was uh-“ Paul’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment as he recalled the newspaper clipping he’d read a few weeks prior. “A shared delusion set off by a poisonous gas leak. Pretty smart.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, we had to do something. By the time the infection was controlled, there were already hundreds of videos of the invasion posted to the web. Mostly of how aggressive people became, nothing too incriminating.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul’s hand tightened around his coffee cup, and he nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I don’t want to get into all that, my work is very boring,”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul raised his eyebrows. He found </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> hard to believe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How have you been?” John asked, giving Paul an almost sad look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul sighed, recalling the past few weeks since the apotheosis came to an end. He’d definitely been having a lot more nightmares than usual. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surviving, I guess. I left my job.” Paul wondered why he told him that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry to hear it.” John said, taking another drag of his cigarette. Paul waved a hand at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, don’t be, it was a piece of shit job anyway. I’d been wanting to leave… A long time, actually.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What kind of position did you have?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Data analysis.” Paul said, drumming his fingers on the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha. To go from doing that to saving the world is quite something, I’m impressed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t like to think about it, to be honest. Especially since it was, uh, mostly luck that I survived for so long.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John nodded, almost apologetically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All survival is luck, Paul.” He said, Paul blinked back. He really didn’t think they’d be getting this deep so soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, other than that, I’ve been doing okay.” Paul was only half lying. Sure, he’d survived, he was living with the girl of his dreams, he was happy for the time being, but he was also scared. Scared in case it wouldn’t last, that their alien attackers would return to finish the job. That the next time he wouldn’t be brave enough, fast enough, smart enough. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lucky</span>
  </em>
  <span> enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Paul was so lost in thought that he flinched in surprise when John asked, “And things between you and your friend, did they work out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Emma?” Paul said, and smiled a bit at hearing her name coming out of his mouth. “Yes. We’re uh, we’re taking it slow- well, we live together, but we’re- seeing other people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” The general said quietly, and then cleared his throat and gave a polite nod. “That’s great, son, that’s really great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul’s eyes flicked down to John’s hand. He couldn’t help but notice the lack of a wedding ring. The caffeine must’ve finally caught up to him, he mused, because he felt his heart beat a little faster.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about you?” He found himself asking. “Your job is pretty dangerous, do you have someone waiting at home?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” John didn’t meet his eye. “If I had someone at home, he’d be waiting a long time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good, then, that you’re-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lonely?” John said, uncharacteristically teasing, and Paul felt his face get hot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Available.” He replied, and watched as the general’s expression became stoic again. “It gives us, uhm, something in common that’s not the apotheosis.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we have a lot in common, Paul. Probably more than you think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhm. It’s a shame we met during such… unfortunate circumstances. In another universe, perhaps, we’d already be friends.” John said, in that slow drawl of his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In another universe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John raised his eyebrow, seemingly contemplating whether or not to explain, then he shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There are multiple universes, so there are multiple outcomes to the same story. Different endings, different beginnings.” He noticed Paul’s confused expression, then continued. “There are so many paths we could have taken instead of the paths we chose.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if it were a completely normal thing to do, John picked up his coffee and poured out a few drops worth onto the table, then began to drag his finger along the mess, creating little lines. Paul watched intently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There could be a universe where you weren’t in Hatchetfield on the day of the apotheosis.” Another line was made. “A universe where you met me before the aliens landed,” He made another line and then stopped, looking up at Paul.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hell, there could even be a universe where you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> like musicals.” John sucked the remainder of the coffee off of his fingertip and Paul’s mouth went dry. He cleared his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow. That’s, uh...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A lot to take in? It’s natural to feel that way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep. Definitely a lot.” Paul said with a quick nod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s how I felt, when I was in your shoes. Like I said, Paul, we’re more alike than you think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I dunno...” Paul said in a vain attempt to be playful. “Comparing a normal guy like me to a G.I. Joe like you… it’s a little funny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We both like coffee,” John said matter-of-factly. “We’re both… available, like you said. And we’ve both seen far too many things that we probably shouldn’t have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul gulped, then took a sip of his coffee to avoid responding to that grim statement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hopefully your experience with the otherworldly has come to an end, though. I can’t say the same for myself.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John crushed his cigarette, almost burned down to the end, and quickly pulled another one out of his jacket pocket. Paul watched quietly as he put it to his mouth and lit it without much of a fuss. His face flushed when he realized John was looking up, matching his probably-blank stare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I forgot to offer. Would you like one?” John said, twirling the hand he held the cigarette with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” Paul said immediately, surprising himself. He didn’t smoke but he found it hard to say no to anything these days, especially from someone with authority. What he didn’t expect is that “would you like one?” referred to a single hit from the cigarette, not a whole stick of his own. John reached against the table and pressed it to Paul’s mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, these things aren’t cheap.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul just nodded and wrapped his lips around the cigarette. John’s fingers brushed against his chin as he held it in place for him. For a moment, Paul looked into John’s eyes. John was staring at him, intently, and it filled Paul’s stomach with butterflies...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he started coughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t smoke, do you, Paul?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What- </span>
  <em>
    <span>cough</span>
  </em>
  <span>- gave it away?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A smoker wouldn’t be making those noises.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul laughed, a little embarrassed, and resigned to take a drink of his coffee. It didn’t help much but with the burning but it gave him time to think of a reply. “No, I don’t smoke. Not since I was under the bleachers in high school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t start.” John said, even as he took another drag. Paul’s eyes followed his lips. “It’s a nasty habit, son, not one I’d recommend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Doesn’t look so bad when you do it… </span>
  </em>
  <span>Paul thought, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. He started to think about the conversation he’d had with Emma earlier… </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> this a date? And more importantly, did he want it to be?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at the man across from him. Handsome. A certain kindness in his eyes. Unfazed by their shared, terrible experience. Yes, maybe Paul wanted this to be a date after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He suddenly realised that he hadn’t been talking for a while, and quickly tried to think of something to say. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, when did you start? Smoking, I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John had a distant expression on his face for a moment before responding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just after I joined PEIP.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul gulped. Maybe he’d hit a nerve. He decided to swerve the conversation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘S cold...” He mumbled, rubbing his hands together to try to get some warmth into them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To Paul’s surprise, John immediately started to shrug his jacket off one shoulder. The movement revealed a bare arm, toned and freckled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here, I’m offeri-” He began.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t need it. I’m already wearing a jacket,” Paul said with a shrug that emphasized his blazer. “It’d be silly to have two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John blinked at him, but started to slip his arm back inside the jacket. “Maybe we should sit inside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Paul said, thinking of the coffee shop and the music that would inevitably be playing inside. The embarrassment that fell over him was immediate. “I mean… uh… not in there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John just looked at him with what appeared to be fondness, or maybe just amusement. But he didn’t seem put off, or scared. Just curious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul was curious too, and in that moment he decided to take a chance. He leaned forward across the table, and spoke a little quieter. Like they were sharing a secret. Maybe they were. “Do you wanna get out of here? Maybe get a drink... that isn’t coffee?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John smiled back. It was a polite and cordial expression, but it gave Paul a spark of hope. “I’m not, ah, too familiar with the bars here-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could go to my place!” Paul said quickly. “It’s just down the street.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have any cats?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you own a cat, Paul. I’m allergic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope. No cats. Just… me and something to take the edge off- if you’d like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John flicked some hair out of his eyes and snuffed the rest of his cigarette. “Lead the way, then.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope everyone is staying safe and healthy! Thanks for keeping up with this story, we're having fun writing it :)</p><p>CW for alcohol and mentions of anxiety in this chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The walk to Paul’s apartment was mostly quiet. Paul hadn’t had to do this kind of song and dance with Emma, she’d simply moved in the day after the world almost ended, so he was unsure of what to do with his “date” other than lead him up the stairs to his place. It wasn’t until Paul was unlocking his door that he remembered how messy it was, and started to regret the invitation. He immediately lunged toward his bedroom door to close it, and when he turned around John was looking at the bookshelf in his living room with what seemed to be a genuine interest.</p><p>“You like the classics.” John said, reaching out a hand to thumb along the spine of a book. “Fahrenheit 541… The Time Machine…”</p><p>“I mean, I had to pass high school somehow.” Paul said, taking his jacket off and throwing it over the back of the couch. John didn’t reply, just kept looking at the books, so Paul walked on the other side of the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.</p><p>“What do you wanna drink?” He announced stiffly.</p><p>That seemed to perk John up. He wandered in the same direction Paul had, but stopped in front of the counter and leaned on his elbows, making a steady eye contact the whole way through. “Do you have beer? Domestic, preferably.”</p><p>“No, sorry. I hate beer.” Paul said. He opened his designated liquor cabinet, and he was ashamed to admit it was fuller than it had been a few weeks ago. He scanned the bottles hoping for something that would impress. “But uh.. I have whiskey, if that’s okay?”</p><p>“Whiskey’d be just fine, son. I find that it’s a drink best shared with good company.”</p><p>“So I’m good company?” Paul set out two glasses.</p><p>“I’m still here, aren’t I?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Paul said, and then busied himself with pouring the whiskey. “Yeah, I guess you are.”</p><p>They stood on either side of the counter once Paul had poured the drinks, individually sipping from their glasses in silence. John spoke up, “The whiskey’s good.”</p><p>“I know- I mean, I agree.” Paul said. The silence was making him feel weird. So was standing in his own kitchen for this long. “You know, we can sit down…” He gestured to the couch.</p><p>And so they sat down, not on opposite ends of the couch but not touching either, and drank in silence for a little while more. Paul was waiting for the drink to calm his nerves, but it wasn’t happening fast enough. And the sudden quiet from his “date” wasn’t helping either. He took a large sip, and then another, and then suddenly John had something to say.</p><p>“Maybe you should slow down, kid.” He was looking over, eyebrows knitted with concern.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Paul said, immediately, and set his glass down on the coffee table with a shaky hand.</p><p>“You can relax, Paul, that wasn’t an order. Just give a man some time to catch up.”</p><p>“Catch up, then.” Paul said, and threw in a wink. Shit, maybe he was starting to feel those last few sips after all. He was comforted by John’s deep laugh in reply.</p><p>“You just keep surprising me, Paul.” He said, almost affectionately. Paul held his glass up to his own lips.</p><p>“What do you mean?” He took another sip quickly.</p><p>“After such a horrible experience, I figured you’d be a lot more shaken up than you are now.”</p><p>Paul gulped, gripping the glass tighter. John continued.</p><p>“You seem to be doing… well for yourself. I’m proud of you, son, it’s not easy.”</p><p>“Uh...” Paul really didn’t want to go into all of his anxieties, all the pain he’d suffered in the weeks after the apotheosis. He didn’t want to admit weakness in front of John, a man who had dealt with aliens and extraterrestrial beings more times than he could count on two hands. </p><p>So instead he just thanked him, quietly, and finished his glass. </p><p>They sat in silence for a moment, Paul bouncing his leg anxiously.</p><p>“It’s kinda quiet, huh?” He said, drumming his fingers on the empty glass. John hummed in agreement.</p><p>“I can turn the TV on if you- I mean, just to have something in the background.”</p><p>“Go ahead.” </p><p>Paul eyed John nervously before reaching for the remote on his coffee table. When he turned it on, the Hatchetfield news logo popped up on screen with its signature dramatic jingle. </p><p>
  <em> “Tonight on Hatchetfield News we will be talking to a woman who beat all odds, and survived one of the worst tragedies in our town’s history.” </em>
</p><p>“Shit.” Paul whispered under his breath. He was frozen, hand gripping the remote like a lifeline.</p><p>
  <em> “Katie Barker is a student of Hatchetfield High, on the day of the meteor strike she was at the Starlight Theatre when the devastating gas explosion happened. Katie, what do you remember from that night?” </em>
</p><p>“Ah-“ The spell seemed to break and Paul fumbled and quickly changed the channel, flicking to a weather forecast instead. He sighed in relief.</p><p>“Everything okay?” John asked. Paul kept his eyes on the screen.</p><p>“Yep! I’m good, I’m-“ He set his glass down a little harder than he intended to. “Fine."</p><p>John’s gaze was also fixed on the TV, and after a few seconds he wordlessly reached between them, brushing his pinkie finger against Paul’s.</p><p>Paul twitched, then accepted the gesture, and John took it as an invitation to interlock their fingers, squeezing his hand gently, comfortingly. </p><p>A smile tugged at Paul’s lips, and he brought his knees up to his chest, resting his head on John’s shoulder.</p><p>“You’ll get through this.” John said, unprompted.</p><p>“I dunno.” Paul mumbled.</p><p>“I made it through.”</p><p>“Yeah but, you’re… different.” Paul turned his head to look up at the other man. “You’re powerful, and I’m just me.”</p><p>“Well, with great power comes great-”</p><p>“Hair?” Paul interrupted, suddenly distracted by the other man’s ponytail. He giggled at his own joke, laughing harder when John cracked a sheepish smile.</p><p>“Yes, Paul. Great hair.”</p><p>“Do you ever take it out of the ponytail?”</p><p>“When I go to bed.” John said flatly. “But it’s, uh, a little early for that, don’t you think?”</p><p>“Definitely, yes.” Paul squeezed his hand and was delighted when he got a squeeze in return. “Way too early. But you can make an exception for an old friend, right?”</p><p>“Old friend. That’s not really the word I’d use.”</p><p>“What about all those parallel universes? The ones where we met… before?”</p><p>John raised an eyebrow. “What about them?”</p><p>“If we were in one of those. Would you let your hair down for me?”</p><p>Paul felt John shift a little bit, but he stubbornly continued to lean. He heard John swallow, finishing the rest of his drink, and then looked up to see him pulling his hair loose from the tie. It was longer than it looked, a little wild, and fell down to his shoulders in thick locks.</p><p>“Wow...” Paul said, genuinely astonished for a second. “Why don’t you wear it like this all the time?”</p><p>John shrugged, giving Paul a small smile.</p><p>“Gets in the way, I guess.”</p><p>“I like it. It’s nice.” Paul said. He stared a little longer and watched as John tried to fix his hair into place blindly. The action was endearing, and Paul felt his face get warm. It got even warmer once John looked him in the eye, catching him off guard.</p><p>“I, uh, let me get you another drink.” Paul said, and without waiting for an answer got up and refilled both their glasses. He was grateful for the drink once he sat back down and the first words out of John’s mouth (after “Thank you.”) were,</p><p>“There’s a survivor in town that you may know. His name is Ted, and I need to speak with him.”</p><p>Paul nodded, hesitant. “Yeah, I know him. We’re- we were coworkers. But why would you need to see Ted?”</p><p>John sipped his drink. He looked away, almost like he was embarrassed. “The day after it all happened, I was told that Ted was... injured. And they believe I had some to do with it, when I wasn’t myself. I owe him an apology, but he won’t respond to any calls from PIEP.”</p><p>“Is that why you asked to see me?” Paul said. He knew his voice sounded hurt and he tried to ignore the concern in John’s eyes. “To talk to Ted?”</p><p>“No, not at all, Paul.” John said, sincerely, “Just thought I’d ask, being in town and all. And Ted’s not the only one I owe an apology to.” </p><p>He eyed Paul, gauging his reaction.</p><p>“You mean me? Apologize to me?” </p><p>“I deeply regret everything that happened, if I could go back and live that day again, I would-”</p><p>“We- we don’t need to talk about this right now.” Paul interrupted, mostly for his own sanity, “I’d rather just… enjoy the rest of our night.” </p><p>“Of course, I’m sorry.” John raised his glass, prompting Paul to do the same. “Cheers, then. To our night.”</p><p>The phrase was sweet and it felt nice in Paul’s ears. <em> Our night</em>, he thought, imagining the possibilities, but all he said out loud was, “Cheers.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read, kudos and comment on this story. We were both aware that this ship didn't exactly have a fanbase before posting this so the positive feedback is amazing!!</p><p>In this chapter, things are heating up in Hatchetfield. Or are they?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Another drink turned into another two, and although they didn’t hold hands again, Paul was buzzing every time his arm brushed against John’s. They danced around the topic of the apotheosis and talked about everything else instead. Sports, childhood pets, thoughts on lawns and gardens. They had as many differences as Paul was expecting, but their opinions lined up in occasional and beautiful ways that had him thinking of those branching lines on the coffee shop table.</p><p>The conversation eventually lulled and Paul felt an impulse to plant a kiss on the general, but something made him stall. Even though he had accepted a while ago that this was a date, he wasn’t entirely sure of John’s intentions. That brief moment of hand holding may have been nothing more than a gesture of comfort. Paul looked at the television instead. He noticed in his periphery that John followed suit, and tried not to shiver at the way it reminded him of the alien's choreography.</p><p>Even that brief thought of aliens was a mistake. By now Paul could feel the whiskey in his stomach, warm and heavy. Now a colder sort of heaviness started to overtake him- the feeling that crept up on him nightly, the great dread that the world was ending and he was an unwilling spectator. He closed his eyes tightly and leaned against John in a move that was more desperate than flirtatious. It felt good to break the touch barrier again, but the bad feeling didn’t go away.</p><p>“If it wasn’t because of Ted… why’d you invite me to coffee?” Paul broke the silence, cringing to himself when his words came out slightly slurred.</p><p>John cleared his throat, as if he was about to reply, but Paul found himself carrying on. “Why would you want to see me again? To- to come back <em> here</em>, of all places?”</p><p>Like it was the simplest thing in the world, John replied, “When the world starts to end from one place, most times there isn’t a place to go back to. Hatchetfield is… different.”</p><p>“Different?”</p><p>“Resilient.” And then an arm was slung around Paul’s shoulder and he was even closer to the general. He felt tears prick in his eyes, thinking about how fragile he felt despite the way John thought of him and his broken little town, but he blinked them away. The sensation of safety started to replace that icy dread, and all seemed well save for a slight pounding in his temples. God, maybe he should’ve slowed down on the whiskey...</p><p>As if reading his mind (something Paul tried not to worry too much about), John spoke up. “You know what you look like? A man that could use some water.”</p><p>“Ugh, you’re right. Just gimme a mi-” Paul started, but John was already standing up and marching over to his kitchen like he owned the place.</p><p>“Cups above the sink?”</p><p>“Huh?” Paul said, still adjusting to no longer having a warm body beside him. “Oh, um, yes.”</p><p>He heard the sound of his sink running for a moment, switching off, and then John was back in the room and pressing a mug of water into his hands.</p><p>“Thank you, s- John.” Paul said, and took a long sip. His burning throat already felt better. “I’m sorry, I don’t normally drink like this on…” He wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. Dates? Saturdays? “On cold nights.”</p><p>John set his own nearly empty glass down on the coffee table, but he didn’t stop looking at Paul. His expression wasn’t concerned, just neutral as far as Paul could understand, as if he was studying something. Studying Paul.</p><p>“Could you…” Paul started. He thought about bravery and resilience and what he wanted, and then he started again. “Can you touch me again? You can just put your arm back where it was…”</p><p>“If you’d like. But there’s something else I need to ask you.” John was making steadier eye contact than he had been the whole night, and he looked almost nervous now. Oh shit, that was new. Why did he look nervous? “And I need you to answer honestly, from the heart.”</p><p>Paul wondered if he should be nervous too, but instead he barely got out a response, “Mhm?”</p><p>“Can I kiss you, Paul?”</p><p>“Yes.” Paul replied, a little too quickly. The relief that spread over him was blissful. “I mean, yeah, <em>yes</em>, that would be… great.” He cringed at his own words but couldn’t stop himself from staring at John’s lips in anticipation. This was the moment he had been waiting for, and yet he still found himself waiting.</p><p>“So are you gonna do it now, or-“ Paul was cut off as John leaned in and kissed him, gently.</p><p>Paul could feel the scratchy brush of John’s beard against his face and he shut his eyes. He moved his hand up John’s back until he was holding the back of his head, satisfied when his fingers touched soft hair. He was equally as satisfied hearing John sigh through his nose at the contact.</p><p>They both pressed into the kiss a little more and Paul felt John place a hand square in the middle of his chest. He kept his hand flat and pushed Paul back slightly. When Paul’s head hit the back of the couch, John pulled away with a soft smacking sound.</p><p>Paul licked his lips and tasted whiskey. “Um.” He said, afraid he’d say all the embarrassing things he was thinking. John seemed to take this as apprehension, because his unfocused eyes suddenly widened.</p><p>“Sorry if I overstepped, I have trouble reading people off the job and I-“ John said, clearly ready to ramble.</p><p>“No, no, it’s okay, it was nice.” Paul cut him off. He reached out to rub John’s knuckles with his thumb, hoping it was encouraging. “You could even… do it again, if you want.”</p><p>“Of course.” John’s voice had dropped to just above a whisper. He leaned in, and Paul leaned in too, and they captured each other’s lips in the middle.</p><p>The second try felt more natural than their first kiss. John brought his hand up to cup Paul’s jaw and shifted even closer to him on the couch. Paul melted into the warm feeling. His one thought other than “<em>this feels good</em>” was being grateful that John’s eyes were closed, otherwise he’d have seen Paul’s undoubtedly red cheeks.</p><p>“Hey, hold on.” Paul said, pulling back as a different thought nagged at him. He was starting to feel uncomfortably hot, and realized he never took his scarf off when they sat down. He unwrapped it from around his neck with a quick hand and tossed it on the arm of the couch. “Much better.”</p><p>John nodded back. His eyelids were drooping shyly as he looked at Paul, hand returning to his chest as if preparing to lean in again. But his gaze flicked away from Paul’s face for a second and he paused, expression changing suddenly. No more heavy-lidded eyes or soft smile.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Paul asked. The general looked downright spooked, an expression Paul hadn’t seen on him before even during the apotheosis. As he straightened up, removing his hand from Paul’s chest, that scared look turned into a frown.</p><p>Before Paul could say anything else, John gingerly reached out and stroked his neck with the back of his finger.</p><p>“Does it…” He paused for a moment, looking impossibly guilty. “Does it still hurt?”</p><p>“What-“ Paul said, stopping to flinch as John’s finger grazed over a sensitive spot. It was then that he remembered why he’d worn a scarf.</p><p><em> The bruises</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh, shit, John, I’m sorry, I f-“</p><p>“<em>You’re </em>sorry?!” John chuckled sadly, “I’m the one who...” He trailed off, shutting his eyes tightly.</p><p>“Hey, it’s… it’s not your fault. You weren't yourself!”</p><p>“You’re a civilian, Paul. I was supposed to protect you.”</p><p>“You did,” Paul straightened up, he sounded urgent. “The- the thing that did this, it wasn’t you, you weren’t in control.” </p><p>“I should have been.”</p><p>They were both silent for a moment, John looking sadly at the marks on Paul’s neck.</p><p>Paul took John’s hand in his, and brought it up to his own chest, over his heart. </p><p>“I’m still here, okay? And... I’m not afraid.” He let John spread out his fingers, letting him feel his steady heartbeat. “You see?”</p><p>John’s eyes darted from the marks up to Paul’s face, and Paul felt his heart skip a beat. He wasn’t a fan of eye contact at the best of times, but... it felt nice to be seen by the general.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” John said.</p><p>Paul nodded. “I know. It’s okay.” </p><p>John played with the hair on the back of Paul’s head, running his hand through the shaggy locks.</p><p>“You need a haircut.” He grumbled.</p><p>“Coming from you?”</p><p>“I thought you said you <em> liked </em> my hair.” </p><p>“I- I do!” Paul stuttered, running his hands through John’s hair in return.</p><p>“That was a joke, Paul.”</p><p>“Oh...” Paul laughed, his face turning red as he accidentally snorted.</p><p>“You’re starting to get a beard, too.” He rubbed Paul’s chin with his fingers.</p><p>“If you can call it that.” Paul huffed.</p><p>John paused, then leaned in for another kiss. It was short and sweet, and it made Paul feel lightheaded. Or maybe that was just the whiskey. </p><p>“You’re pretty.” Paul said, smiling a goofy smile, before he realized what he’d just said, “Uh, I mean, I’m sorry, I didn’t-“</p><p>“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”</p><p>Paul never got a chance to respond, as John slowly shifted onto Paul’s lap, their chests pressed together. It seemed like he was trying to get as close as possible, and the thought made Paul’s head spin. </p><p>John was staring at him, intently, expectantly. Paul realized what he was waiting for, and stretched upwards to kiss him again. </p><p>It was suddenly so much more passionate and intense. Paul’s hand reached down to hook under John’s thigh. It was as warm and solid as the rest of him. Paul gave the area an impulsive squeeze and was rewarded when John made a noise in response, a low moan in the back of his throat.</p><p>“You like to be touched?” Paul said after breaking the kiss, trying not to sound surprised.</p><p>“I like it when you touch me.” John replied flatly, and pressed a wet kiss to Paul’s jaw.</p><p>Paul shut his eyes and shuddered, tipping his head back, allowing John better access.</p><p>“You said...” Paul gulped when John’s tongue darted out, near his Adam’s apple.</p><p>“Hm?” John mumbled.</p><p>“You said you felt bad about the, uh… the marks.”</p><p>John stilled, but kept his lips against Paul’s neck.</p><p>“Yes?” He said. Paul could feel the rumble of the word in his chest.</p><p>“You can... make new ones, if you’d like.” Paul twirled a strand of John’s hair around his finger. “With better memories.”</p><p>John said nothing, but he let out a soft noise that almost sounded like a whine, then nipped at Paul’s neck with his teeth, making him yelp.</p><p>Only then did Paul realize just how wound up he’d become. He hadn't had a date in a while, much less a potential one night stand. Blood rushed to his face and he took a deep breath, trying to steady his pouding heartbeat.</p><p>“Wait, wait, wait.” Paul said, gently tugging John’s hair to pull him back. </p><p>“What’s wrong?” John asked, concern on his face as clear as the blush on Paul’s cheeks.</p><p>“Nothing, nothing’s wrong, you’re- you’re great, I just...” Paul groaned and put a hand on John’s chest, fighting back the urge to run it down further, “I don’t wanna, um, move too fast, you know?”</p><p>“Oh.” John sounded relieved, “Yes, of course. I’m sorry if I came on too strong.”</p><p>“You didn’t do anything that I didn’t ask you to.” Paul smiled, rubbing John’s shoulder, his eyes widening as he felt the muscle there. He cleared his throat and, perhaps unsubtly, looked down at how John’s legs were straddling him. “Uh, I just don’t think we should… right now...”</p><p>“Alright.” John nodded, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Paul really shouldn’t have found that so attractive.</p><p>John moved off of Paul’s lap, sitting next to him instead. Paul tapped his fingers on his knee, caught in a bit of a haze, until John cleared his throat.</p><p>“I don’t know about you, but I need a drink. Not more whiskey, though.” The general said, and reached for the mug full of water on the coffee table. He raised it up to his mouth and then paused. “Mind if I drink from yours?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Paul said, and then laughed despite his best efforts. It was no use after all he’d had to drink. “I’m, uh, not too worried about swapping spit with you after that.”</p><p>John just took a loud sip in return and then passed the mug to Paul. He waited until Paul had put the cup back down to talk again.</p><p>“Emma.” He said, simply, and Paul swung his head towards him. “Is she okay with this, Paul?”</p><p>“Okay with…? <em> Oh</em>, wait.” Paul rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, of course. I’m not that kind of guy. We’re, we’re taking it slow, in fact she’s probably… doing the same thing… right now.” For some reason that made his head spin, and he closed his eyes for a moment.</p><p>He felt John’s hand on his back, smoothing in between his shoulder blades comfortingly. “I’m not accusing you of anything. But her stuff is all over the apartment, it’s hard to miss. I don’t want to be-”</p><p>“A homewrecker?”</p><p>“-<em>Intruding </em>.”</p><p>“No, no, you’re not intruding. I invited you in. I’m- I’m glad you’re here.” Paul said, and then nodded slowly. “Really glad, John, I mean it.”</p><p>John didn’t say anything for a moment. He kept rubbing Paul’s back. “It’s getting late, Paul.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“You’ve had quite a bit to drink.”</p><p>Paul straightened up and felt John’s hand leave his back.</p><p>“So have you.” He said.</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” John said, but he cracked a smile.</p><p>“So… you shouldn’t be walking back to your hotel or… helicopter alone.”</p><p>John gave a loose shrug. “I could get a taxi.”</p><p>“In the middle of the week... in a small town… with a strict curfew...”</p><p>“Paul. If you want me to stay, I’d be happy to. But I’m going to need you to ask me.”</p><p>“Oh.” Paul said. If he’d been more sober, he might’ve been embarrassed, but instead he was just excited that it was apparently that easy. “Will you spend the night?” He barely managed to avoid saying <em> I don’t want to be alone</em>.</p><p>“Of course.” John patted Paul on the shoulder. “Anything for a friend. And I, uh, brought a toothbrush in case of an emergency.”</p><p>Paul tried not to linger too long on the word “emergency.” He got to his feet, wiped his hands on his pants out of habit. “Speaking of, I should probably get to that. Teeth brushing.”</p><p>“Go right ahead.” John said, but he stayed on the couch, hands sitting still in his lap politely.</p><p>“What about you?” Paul said, reaching his hand down. John grasped his hand back and Paul was suddenly glad he brushed the sweat off his palms.</p><p>“I didn’t know if you wanted me to sleep out here.” John said. He got up with a grunt but didn’t let go of Paul’s hand. “I thought I’d made it clear I didn’t want to intrude.”</p><p>“I thought it was clear you weren’t. I want you here.” Paul said. “And I… haven’t been sleeping well, it’d be nice to have someone to, uh. To protect me.”</p><p>John nodded. He seemed to understand, and Paul could’ve sworn his cheeks looked a little warmer. “Bedroom’s on the left, right?”</p><p>“Yep.” Paul said, trying not to sound too excited.</p><p>“I’ll get ready and meet you there.”</p><p>Sadly, John let go of Paul’s hand after that. Paul resisted the urge to salute as they temporarily parted ways. On the way to his bedroom, he took his phone out of his pocket and texted Emma.</p><p>
  <em> Johnssleeping over is thaf cool? </em>
</p><p>He frowned at the typos. Stupid whiskey. Oh well, Emma would understand. It seemed like she did because not only a few seconds later he got a reply.</p><p>
  <em> Paul are you high? </em>
</p><p><em> Nno! </em>He texted back while brushing his teeth. His phone chimed immediately with Emma’s response.</p><p>
  <em> Having fun? </em>
</p><p>Paul smiled at his phone. He could picture Emma saying those words, teasing him while she grinned up at him. He took the time to type a legible response.</p><p>
  <em> Definitely. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>:)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Paul looked up from his phone and jumped a little at seeing John reflected in the mirror behind him, standing in the bedroom. He was in a pair of dark boxers, exposing his muscular (and scarred) legs that Paul tried not to stare at too long. Mostly, he just looked at John’s face. He seemed to be a little lost.</p><p>“Feel free to sweep off the bed and get comfortable.” Paul called out, spitting out his toothpaste and watching it run down the drain.</p><p>“I think you may want to clean this off yourself, Paul.” John said.</p><p>“What are you- oh.” Paul said, immediately mortified. Emma had left her… toys out on the bed.</p><p>Paul yelped and sprung to action, clearing the vibrators off with the clumsy skill that you would expect from a drunken, anxious mess of a man. They fell on the ground with a soft thump.</p><p>“Ah, sorry! Those are my g- My uh- Emma. Emma’s.” He said, not looking John in the eye, “They’re not mine! I- You know, it’s funny, actually, I told her that I wouldn’t be able to afford them. Not that I would want to-“ Paul bit his lip to prevent himself from digging an even bigger hole. He put his hands on his hips and stared down at the floor. </p><p>John laughed, and Paul laughed along with him, nervously.</p><p>“Paul, I- I really don’t care, it’s by far not the strangest thing I’ve seen in someone’s room.”</p><p>“Yeah? What’s- what’s the strangest?”</p><p>“A body.”</p><p>Paul’s smile slowly faded from his face and he stared ahead awkwardly. </p><p>“...Wow.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, it wasn’t human. But I don’t like to talk about work.” John said, climbing onto the bed, seemingly unfazed by the dark road their conversation had gone down.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s… understandable. I mean I’ve only ever worked in offices, and before that I was a paperboy so.” </p><p>“Paul.”</p><p>“Hm?” </p><p>“Were you planning on joining me?”</p><p>“Oh! Yeah!” Paul nearly jumped on the bed and got under the covers next to John, scooting up close next to him with a goofy smile.</p><p>“Your glasses.” Was all John said in response, tapping the side of Paul’s face.</p><p>“Ah.” Paul removed them, blinking for a moment, before setting them on his bedside table. He turned to face John again and as soon as he did, he found himself being pulled in for a soft kiss. John tasted like mint, he must’ve brushed his teeth in the kitchen.</p><p>John pulled back and smiled, regarding him.</p><p>“You’re sweet.” He said, sounding every bit like he meant it.</p><p>“So’s you. You- <em>you</em> are too. Sweet.” Paul groaned. “I’m drunk.”</p><p>“You are.”</p><p>“And tired.” Paul said, and felt a yawn coming on, stretching his arms before slumping down against John’s chest. He was worried being this close would make him excited all over again, but instead he just felt nice. Comfortable. “Should… probably take my meds, huh?” His voice was muffled, and he heard the general make an inquisitive hum in response.</p><p>“...Pills, they help me sleep.” Paul continued, reaching for his bedside table. “Well, they don’t help too much but I take them anyway.”</p><p>“Are they safe to take with alcohol?”</p><p>“Dunno.”</p><p>“I’d go ahead and check.”</p><p>Paul exhaled deeply before sitting up, putting on his glasses again. He opened the drawer at the bottom of the desk and scrambled his hand around inside of it before finding the bottle. He squinted at the label.</p><p>“Do not take if pregnant. Well that’s good to know, I guess. One to be taken at night. Warning, this medicine may make you feel sleepy, blah blah… do not mix with alcohol.” He sighed. “Damn.”</p><p>“After those drinks, you might end up falling asleep soon anyway.”</p><p>“That’s not the problem.” Paul shut his eyes, frowning. “I get these… Nightmares.” </p><p>“Ah. Nightmares.” John parroted. “The scourge of mankind.”</p><p>“Do you ever have nightmares?” Paul said, taking off his glasses and putting the pills back where he found them.</p><p>“I used to.” John said after a beat of silence. “I don’t dream much anymore.”</p><p>“Ha. Good for you.” Paul couldn’t meet his eyes.</p><p>“It’s not unusual to have night terrors, after an experience with the unknown.”</p><p>“I don’t care if they’re unusual. I hate them.” Paul was shocked at the bitterness in his own voice. He was about to apologize when he felt John touch his arm.</p><p>“Lay down, Paul. I’m going to get something from your living room.”</p><p>“I’m sorr-”</p><p>“It’s nothing. I’ll be right back.”</p><p>Paul closed his eyes but he stayed alert, wondering what John had in store. Worried if he’d scared him away from their little “sleepover”. John’s chest had been so warm, and surprisingly soft, and Paul wanted nothing more than to press his face into that softness and dream of nothing.</p><p>Paul hadn’t noticed that John was back in the room until he felt the bed dip with his weight. He opened his eyes, John’s arm wrapping around his shoulder, pulling him close. Paul shifted so his face was pressed against John’s chest, and inhaled softly. </p><p>“Watership Down.” John said, and when Paul looked at him, confused, he waved the book in front of his face, “Thought you might like me reading to you.”</p><p>Paul smiled and wiggled his eyebrows.</p><p>“I do like the sound of your voice.” He mumbled.</p><p>“I saw the cover and thought it looked interesting. The rabbits are sweet.”</p><p>“You do know tha-“ Paul hiccuped, “That it’s not just about rabbits, right?”</p><p>“Enlighten me.”</p><p>“Can’t. Too tired. You’ll see what I mean, it gets dark.” His sentence ended in a yawn.</p><p>“How dark can a book about bunny rabbits be?”</p><p>Paul said nothing in reply, but he chuckled drowsily and closed his eyes.</p><p>“The primroses were over,” John started, his voice a little quieter, deeper. “Toward the edge of the wood, where the ground became open and sloped down to an old fence and a brambly ditch beyond, only a few fading patches of pale yellow still showed among the dog's mercury and oak-tree roots...”</p>
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